Tommy
by Poasoianne
Summary: Thomas is only twelve and is suddenly thrust into a world where he has no memories, and everyone else is older than him. Will he even survive?
1. Chapter 1

**This is an AU- Thomas is twelve, and everyone else is around twenty. I've always wondered how a younger Thomas would interact with the gladers. I've changed quite a few more things in accordance with this idea, and this is how I think the story would have gone, had the age changes happened.**

**This will be the only disclaimer for the whole story: I do not own the triology 'Maze Runner.'**

**I hope you like it! :-)**

Chapter 1

It was dark. He sucked in a breath, panicked. Where was he? Questions piled upon questions. What was he doing there? Why? What was this place?

What was going to happen to him?

He took in a shaking breath, and stood. It was pitch black, but as he reached out, his fingertips collided with something.

Taking a step forward so he could place his palm down, he moved his hand along to the left, as far as it would go, and then to the right.

And to the right, it met a corner.

He took half a step to the left, and then repeated the action. He reached out, and his forefinger brushed it.

Another corner.

He was in a box, he realised. It must be- either that, or a very tiny room, but the wall felt cold beneath his fingers, metal-like. Rooms weren't made of metal.

Why was he in a box made of metal?

He sank to the floor in silence. he didn't know who he was, where he was- what he was doing there.

Then, it began to move.

The violent swing was so shocking that he let a high pitched shriek, a cry. In a voice still unbroken he started to yell. "Where am I? What do you want with me?"

His only answer was the rattling groan of acceleration.

What would happen when he reached the top?

"Help!" He screamed. "Where am I? Help!" His fingers wildly grasped the smooth metal below his. "Please! Just make it stop!"

And then, it stopped.

A blast of light blinded him a second, shocked him, and he scrambled backwards until his back jolted, banging into the cold wall. His eyes widened in wonder, and then fear, as he stared up at the sea of faces above him.

They looked down in confusion.

"It's a kid." Someone whispered. "Why did they send a kid?"

Every face was male, and perhaps within the age bracket of eighteen to twenty, although, the now proclaimed kid mused, he couldn't really tell.

So it was with fear that he looked up, and he backed away, under the ledge between the top of what must have been a lift, and the shaft in which it had travelled. A dull ache spread out from across his back, crippling almost, and he felt like crying-

Really though, he was just a child.

Someone lept from the edge, in the lift, bending over, with difficulty, so he could look the boy in the eye.

"Hey there." His voice was soothing. "Can you come out?"

The kid shook his head. "No." He whispered.

"Come on, Greenie." The boy, or perhaps man, in front of him still spoke calmly, as if he was used to this situation. His eyes however, seemed to flicker anxiously. "You can do it. Please."

The kid felt tears flood his eyes, curling up further into the alcove.

The guy in front of him reached out, grasping onto the sleeve of the boy. "You can do it." He murmured. "Come on."

The kid, now Greenie, for he didn't know his name, provided no resistance. He let himself be uncurled, and stood up. He froze at the obvious height difference, his eyes darting from person to person, but before he could back away again, someone grasped under his arms and tugged.

He let out a startled shriek, a scream, and kicked away, but the hands held on firm, lifting him out of the box, and onto solid ground. He clenched his eyes shut, as he heard the doors closing, creaking their way to a stop.

The guy holding him shook him slightly. "Open your eyes," he ordered. "Now."

Though the tone was harsh, it held a strange note of authority, and the boy had to comply. He looked up, and then around, and then at the man who'd just spoken.

Someone else walked around towards them- it was the guy from the lift. "Hey there kiddo." His voice was still gentle. Good cop, bad cop, the kid supposed.

"Do you know your name?" He asked. The boy shook his head. The guy frowned slightly, and then "Your age?"

The kid shook his head. He didn't know. He didn't know anything. "No." He answered clearly, and then. "Where am I?"

The guy turned around and glared at the various onlookers. "Don't you have things to be doing?" he snapped.

The crowd slowly dissipated, but the kid kept getting weird looks. He toed the ground quietly. "What is my name?" he said, quietly.

"We don't know." The older, scarier guy answered. "But you'll get it. It's the one thing they let us keep. Well, also your age, but even that doesn't always come."

"How old do you think am?"

The nicer guy laughed. "Well, aren't you just full of questions. I'm Newt, by the way, and that there is Alby. I know he's got the grump thing going for him at the moment, but he really ain't that terrifying."

Alby answered. "I'd say eleven, maybe ten, but like we said you might know, you might not."

"But what is this place?" The boy was determined to get answers. His voice shook, and he took a sudden, quick breath.

"This?" Newt spread his arm out. "This is the glade, and- hey, hey. Listen, it's alright, yeah? You'll get used to this place eventually, and-"

"But I don't understand." The child kicked at the ground angrily. "Why am I here? Why is anyone here?"

"We've no shucking clue!" Alby snapped, irritated. "Don't become all whiny on us, please." He shook his head, and murmured something to Newt, who just nodded once in agreement.

The young boy just scrubbed his eyes hard, before...

Thomas.

The kid blinked and then again-

Thomas.

"I-I-" He gasped, sucking in a quick breath.

"What?" Newt said, clearly puzzled.

"I remember, my name I mean." The kid smiled, feeling and overwhelming sense of relief, because _he knew who he was._

"What is it?" Newt asked, eagerly. He seemed to want to know as much as the kid had, which was...nice.

"Thomas."

"Nice to meet you Thomas." Newt grinned, holding out his hand.

Thomas smiled, shaking it. "You too." His terror was finally, slowly subsiding, slightly.

Newt laughed, amused. "Do you know how old you are?"

Thomas wrinkled his nose, and then, "Twelve, I think- but how can I remember that, and not anything else?"

Alby nudged him slightly, his previous bad mood forgotten. "We don't know any more than you do, Greenie."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"What?"

"Greenie." Thomas' eyes were wide. "You keep calling me Greenie."

Alby shrugged. "Jus' what we do." He murmured. "Nothing really to it."

"Hey!"

The three turned at the yell. Two guys were yelling at each other, becoming more and more insistent.

Alby looked torn, and Newt shoved him away from him. "Go." He grinned. "I've got this."

The older-though only by a year it seemed- man nodded, and walked purposefully towards the shouting.

Newt turned to Thomas. "You ought really to not ask so many questions- I mean a few, but it'll annoy some people. You should limit them, you'll learn as you go along."

Thomas nodded, and then became somber as he stared at the tall walls surrounding them. "What are they?" He pointed a shaking finger.

Newt put a hand on the younger boy's shoulder. "That's the maze." He answered softly. "It's what keeps us here, we haven't solved it yet, and- whoa." He dragged Thomas the step he taken forwards, back. "Listen." He spun the boy around so they were looking each other in the eye. "There are two major rules here, understand? The first rule is to never harm another glader, and the other is to never go into the maze."

"Why?" Thomas asked. "It's just a maze." He didn't really get it.

"No." Newt's face was growing increasingly serious, "No kid. Never go in there, ever, get it? Those rules, they're made for our protection, your protection. Never go in there." He looked at Thomas's face, searching for something.

"I won't." Thomas said softly. "I won't, I promise."

"Good that." Newt grinned, ruffling his hair. "Okay Greenie, go and ask for Chuck, he'll help you. Tell him your supposed to be roomies with him, okay? Just ask around a bit."

Thomas nodded, he was a bit nervous of the guys at the glade. They were all older than him, and to be honest, it kind of scared him.

Newt shoved him a little. "Go ahead. Nobody bites- well except maybe Gally. Just try to stay away from him, alright?"

"Alright."

"Good that."

A scream suddenly echoed round the site. Thomas jumped about three feet in the air, frozen with fear. It left him panic-stricken. The tortured voice was wailing, and sent shivers of terror down his spine.

Newt leapt into action, sprinting away in the direction of a tall wooden hut. "Find Chuck!" he yelled. "And quickly!"

Thomas stood there, frozen, confused. What on earth was he supposed to do?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Hey, are you Thomas?"

Thomas jumped, and spun on his feet. "Yes." He said. "Who're you?"

He was talking to a short, slightly chubby teenager, who was maybe half a foot taller than Thomas himself. "I'm Chuck." He said. "Newt sent me. We're rooming together- you know that?"

Thomas nodded, suddenly feeling shy. "Where does everyone sleep?" He took in the older boy's appearance some more. He had a round face, and he was smiling, and was maybe fifteen, or sixteen, which made Thomas the youngest there.

"It's just over there." The teen pointed towards a large collection of wooden houses, which was strange. Sure, maybe some twenty year old's could build a house, but Thomas doubted many could.

"Were they there before?" He blurted out.

"Huh?" Chuck was clearly taken aback, but then he calmed, as if remembering the abruptness with which children could speak. "You mean the huts?"

Thomas nodded, now barely concentrating. He started sprinting towards them, reaching them in about twenty seconds.

"Hey!" Chuck was catching up. "Don't run off!" He put his hands on his knees, panting. "You're fast." He commented, breathlessly.

Thomas nodded absentmindedly, staring intently at the metal bolts. They were a perfect fit, no splintering pieces of wood, no slightly crooked panels. "They must have been."

Chuck shrugged. "Whatever- never really thought about it."

Thomas nodded, and then- "Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

"You know all that yelling earlier?" Thomas couldn't think of another way to describe it. "Who- I mean- what was happening? It was horrible."

The teen winced. "Ben got stung." He murmured. "That's what happens, kiddo, when you go through the changing."

"Stung? By what?" Thomas frowned as he thought of the piercing wailing. "It must've been something pretty bad."

"Grievers." Chuck wasn't smiling now, his freckled face serious. "They're- well I can't really describe them- but their bad. If you get stung? Its pretty much the end of you unless you get the serum. If you get out of it alive, well.. you're never the same again."

Then it started again, and the twelve year old couldn't help but clap his hands over his ears.

Chuck grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the screaming. Thomas was taken slightly aback at the sudden mood swing- the boy looked set, determined. Maybe even angry.

"What are you doing?" He yelped. "I don't want to hear it!"

"I want to, so shush." Chuck hushed him. "And I'm supposed to be looking after you so you'd better come with me."

"Why do you want to know-"

"Be quiet!" Chuck hissed. "Don't speak. We're not supposed to see them, but I haven't ever, and I want to."

Thomas flinched. He sounded almost...unhinged. It was frightening.

They got closer to where a crowd of guys were congregating outside the entrance of a large wooden hut- the largest, in fact.

"Hey Chuckie, where're ya takin' the newbie?" A tall, nasal voiced guy walked up to them. He was hard-looking, and angry, glaring at the two kids.

"Shove off, Gally." Chuck said. "We were just going to see Newt."

"Ain't nobody allowed up there!" Called another voice. "You get back here ya shank!"

Chuck tugged Thomas, pulling him past everyone. Thomas protested wildly. "Let me go!" He shrieked. "Chuck! Let me go!"

There were mutters from the crowd, and then-

"Listen to him Chuckie!" Called the guy he now knew as Gally. "I need a look at the shank, anyway, I ain't seen him yet!"

"There ain't nothing to be seen." Chuck snapped angrily, snarling, even. "Leave us alone. He's just a kid."

But Gally had caught hold of Thomas' other arm, and yanked hard, causing Chuck to let go from surprise, and Thomas to fall- or he would have, at least, had the elder not kept a tight grip.

"I've seen you before." He said, his voice low- it could even be described as sift, though Thomas was sure that wasn't the intention. "Where from, though? 'Cause it wasn't here."

"Oh, I don't know." Chuck said sarcastically. "Maybe because he came up the lift, same as the rest of us."

"No, no." Gally said. He pointed to where the screaming was coming. "Ya hear that, shank? That's the changing."

Thomas tried to squirm away. This was different. This was scary.

"Wait, I'm not finished. You know, I went through that, and when you do, you know whatcha see?" he didn't pause for Thomas to answer. "Your past, kid. Or parts- bits and pieces. It's faded now, but I recognise you." he sucked in a breath. "And I bet you anything Ben will too."

Thomas struggled against the increasingly tight hold. "Let me go!" He cried. Tears came into his eyes.

"Gally." Another glader who could have been maybe eighteen or nineteen spoke. "He's just a kid, let him go."

The young man released him, and opened his mouth to say something else, but Thomas fled. He ran towards the hut- the door was wide open.

He just had to get away- had to be safe.

He had no memories, no understanding of what had happened, an aching, hurting body- he was terrified.

Newt and Alby were here- and they'd helped him.

He sprinted up the stairs, coming to a wooden door. He wasn't crying so much anymore. In fact, when he thought about it, he hadn't really cried at all. He pushed at it though, and the sight he saw when the door opened made his blood run cold.

A guy was lying on the bed, shrieking in pain. His veins were taut against his skin, and were a shocking green colour, almost glowing, as if someone had injected them full of neon. Other than that he was pale, like a ghost. His eyes were turning and weaving wildly around the room, and his mouth lay open, saliva trickling out of it.

Thomas sucked in a gasp.

"Tommy!"

Thomas looked weakly towards Newt, who glanced at Alby once, and then darted towards the twelve year old, shutting the door hurriedly.

"You're not supposed to see that." He said, sharply. His eyes roved over Thomas' face, which had drained of colour. "You've been crying? It that why you came up here?"

Thomas shook his head. "I was scared." He said softly. "I just ran."

"Ran? Ran from what?" Newt looked suddenly anxious. "Did anyone else run?"

"Gally grabbed me." Thomas muttered. "Started yelling at me, I just- I just panicked."

"Did he hurt you?" Newt quizzed him, his brow furrowed.

Thomas thought about the bruises he was probably going to have, and the ache where the man had caught his arm- but then, everything was hurting anyway. He really just felt sick. "No." He said. "Sorry, I shouldn't have come."

"You shouldn't." Newt agreed. "But that can't be helped. I'll come on out with you." It was a relief, really. The guy made him feel safer, less afraid. "I heard you yelling. I should have come anyway." He shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. "Come on." He led the way down the staircase.

Thomas stopped, suddenly. "Why'd you call me Tommy?" He asked.

Newt frowned. "I don't know, I guess you suit it?" He didn't seem to think too much on it.

When they got to the bottom, Newt pushed the door open, and stalked right up to Gally. "What were you thinking?" His voice was cold. "That's a child, you know. He's twelve."

Thomas crept out to stand slightly behind Chuck.

The dark haired man just growled, his black eyes smoldering. "Who shucking cares how old he is?"

Newt shook his head. "I don't quite know what you expect him to do. He's a child, Gally." The blonde was calm, methodical, yet his eyes still radiated the same, cold fire.

"Listen." Gally lowered his voice, but Thomas heard every word. "I've seen him before. there's something not quite right about this, you know. I've been though the changing, Newt, and I've seen him."

Newt shook his head. "Maybe you knew him before you came here, but he's still a kid."

"Yes, you've made that quite clear." Gally shook his head angrily. "Maybe you'll believe me- when he slips up." He narrowed his eyes. "Don't you think he's remarkably resilient for a twelve year old?" He walked off.

Newt ran a hand through his hair. " You'll be okay, right?" He asked Thomas. "I need to go help Alby."

Thomas nodded, and Chuck put an arm around him. "I got him." He grinned.

Newt gave them one last look, and then turned back into the house.

"Come on." Chuck tugged at him. "I bet you want something to eat, huh?"

Thomas let himself be pulled along, the screams of the man he'd seen echoing in his ears.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Chuck?" Thomas stood beside his companion, staring up at the dark stones surrounding them. "What's out there?"

"You mean the maze." Chuck was sitting on the ground. He fiddled with a blade of grass, tugging upwards until it gave way. He was silent for a moment, as Thomas nodded, and then. "Nothing."

"How so?"

Chuck gave him an odd look. "You talk so strangely" he muttered. "There really isn't anything out there, besides the runners, I mean."

"What are the runners?" Thomas asked softly. He knew everyone was getting irritated with his constant questions- especially Chuck- but he just had to know.

"You mean who." Chuck gave him a half-smile. "They're the very best of us. The fastest, the smartest. They're the ones who run the maze, searching. You have to be really good, to be one of those."

"Oh." Thomas said, and then. "What are they searching for?"

Chuck stared at him sadly. "A way out." His eyes raked the floor, before he stood up.

Thomas followed him. "They haven't found one yet, have they," He stated. Why else would they still be there?

"No, kid." Chuck muttered. "They haven't." He started walking away, and Thomas stood there, unsure of what to do. his feet shifted uneasily, scuffing against the ground. He rotated again- back to staring at the grey brick.

He was bored- nothing else to it.

Newt had said not to go into the maze- but that didn't mean he couldn't look in. He ran forward, reaching the entrance, glancing around twice behind him, before leaning his head forwards, peering into the apparent blackness.

You'd have to have good eyesight, Thomas supposed, to be a runner. He knew that there must be other jobs, to keep thing running here, but he loved the sound of being a runner. It sounded thrilling- fun. You'd be on your feet all day, and you'd get to run.

He liked running.

No- he loved it. the adrenaline, the rush, he loved running.

He'd be too young to be a runner- Newt would never allow it, never…..

The passage wasn't completely dark. There was a little light to see, coming from the top of the maze, which, once your eye got used to it, filled the stone paths with an eery bleakness, an unpleasant mid-grey that seemed to seep from the opening in the walls.

He leaned in a little closer, just to see in further, when he heard a yell.

"Hey, stop!"

He jumped in alarm, hopping backwards a step, and glancing around violently, before stopping in surprise, because the cry had come from inside the maze.

This must be one of the runners.

The guy sprinted out from the opening, coming to a halt just a metre before the twelve year. "Get away from there." He gasped, dragging the young boy nearer the safety of the glade huts.

As the guy caught his breath, Thomas took in his messy black hair, and large stature. Even bending over, he was taller than him. Thomas decided then and there not to mess with him.

The guy stood up, having recovered, and grabbed onto Thomas' shoulder firmly- though gently- and shook him slightly. "What was that, huh?" He demanded. "Are you the newbie?"

Thomas nodded. "I just came today." He mumbled, swerving his eyes to the floor.

The guy stepped back, as if taking the young boy in. "Damn it." He muttered. "How old are you?"

Thomas looked up. "Twelve." He answered.

"Okay." The guy nodded, his face softening, though his underlying expression was one of surprise. "Okay, well I'm Minho."

"Thomas."

Minho nodded again. "We should go see Alby." He said. "I've got something to tell him anyway. Has he explained the rules?"

"Yes." Thomas answered nodding. "But it was Newt." At Minho's raised eyebrow, he hurried to explain. "I wasn't going in- just looking."

Minho didn't really look convinced. "Okay then." He said. "But you mustn't go near the maze kiddo, ever."  
>"Why?" Thomas asked.<p>

"It's dangerous."

"But why?" Thomas persisted. "What's so dangerous about it?"

Minho looked at him in surprise. "Ain't anyone told you about the grievers?"

Thomas answered by shaking his head. "Chuck mentioned them, but- what are they?"

"Huh." Minho muttered. "Well no wonder you went and looked."

"What are-"

Minho bit his lip. "I don't know if I should tell you. Ask Newt when we see him. You just gotta stay away, though, understand?"

A sudden grating noise tore through the glade, and Thomas cried out, slamming his hands to his ears in surprise.

Minho grabbed his wrists, pulling them down. "It's okay." He spoke loudly, to be heard. "It's okay, kid. S'just the doors. They close, you see."

He evidently found Thomas' sudden shock amusing.

The twelve year old sent him a dirty look. "It's not funny." he muttered, as the shuddering came to an end. "What happened? Why do they do that? How are they doors?"

Minho shrugged. "They do that- every night." His expression darkened. "It's a blessing, trust me."

"What do you mean?"

"They don't just keep us in here you know." The older glader scowled. "They keep other things out."

This struck the boy as rather ominous, and he looked at Minho to elaborate. He didn't though, and Thomas accepted it with a shrug. This, he guessed, was something he'd have to find out some other way.

Minho started towards the huts then, leaving the younger stumbling along behind him. He looked back every once in a while, though, as if to make sure the kid was still with him.

"Minho!"

The yell came from the house. Both Thomas and Minho looked up to see Alby running towards them.

"What are you doing with him?" Alby asked, as he came closer, directing it towards the elder. "Did he do something?"

Minho raised his eyebrows, giving a sidelong glance to the sheepish twelve year old. Then he grinned. "No, course not. I just came back, he was asking me questions. He doesn't have a job to do yet, does he?"

"No." Alby shook his head. "But he's too small really to do a lot of heavy work. Newt was going to go round and find out what he's best at."

"Do you think he's destined for slopper?" Minho asked. He didn't really look too impressed with the suggestion.

Thomas didn't know what a slopper was, but he wrinkled his nose. He didn't like the sound of it. The very word made him feel a little ill.

To his relief Alby shook his head. "Too little to do that too. Couldn't really ask a little kid to clean toilets."

Thomas opened his mouth to protest against being a little kid, but then snapped it shut quickly. If it stopped him from cleaning toilets, then maybe being young wasn't so bad.

Alby carried on. "We were thinking about maybe Zart looking after him or something, I mean, it ain't hard, you know. Just plants and stuff."

Thomas felt his concentration drifting. He scanned the area, before looking back towards the walls. Though the glade was big, Thomas just knew that in comparison to the outside the place was tiny. It was weird, how the memory thing worked. He knew about everything- from mountains to lakes, seas, even, and yet he couldn't even remember where he lived before all this.

His mum and dad.

He wished he knew who they were- he missed them, somehow, though there were no memories.

He felt his feet take off, and he started walking, quietly, away from everything- Minho and Alby didn't notice, they were too deep in conversation, and he just walked.

There was a small wood. Thomas had noticed it earlier, but hadn't really paid attention. Now, however, he walked straight there. It was getting dark, and stars were startlingly bright. There wasn't a cloud in sight. He found that strange.

But everything was strange. How could there be flora and fauna in a place so closed off from the rest of the world? It was yet another mystery to be solved.

Thomas found himself stumbling through nearly pitch black. The thick canopy overhead wasn't helping matters much, and the ground was covered with loose twigs, and brambles that tore at the boy's legs. He knew they must be bleeding.

He picked up speed. He was running now, racing across the uneven mud. He swallowed, sucking in gasps of air, stopping suddenly, and twisting, so he was almost certain he was facing the way he came.

Almost, but not completely.

He was lost.

Tired, aching, _lost._

Thomas shook his head, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat that had become stuck there. Swiping at his eyes, he made a noise of frustration that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

"Newt?" He whispered to the black air. "Alby? Minho?" Tears started tracking down his cheeks.

It was just the first day, and he'd started to cry like a baby. Again.

He gasped, hugging his arms around his chest. He was lost. He was completely and utterly lost.

He was terrified.

"I want my mum." He said. It made him feel better to say it out loud, even if it made him cry more. It made feel as if maybe he did have a mum, waiting for him.

He'd have to think- he'd lost all sense of orientation the moment he'd blinked, but the walls went all the way around the glade. If there was a way out this way, someone would have found it. So all there could be was wall.

And if he followed the wall, eventually he'd get to the glade.

He brought out his hands, so they were reaching, much like in the lift. Every breath he took was shuddering. Salty droplets coursed down his face, turning it dark red, though of course he wasn't to know.

He moved forward, a step at a time, sometimes falling over. Every time though, he got back up. He couldn't stay lost forever, he reminded himself. Even if he stayed stumbling around for days, statistically, in a place that small, he have to stumble across the glade sooner or later.

He just hoped it would be sooner.

He walked for a while- he wasn't sure how long, but he knew it was maybe an hour. They must be worried, he hoped so anyway. Worried meant they'd come look for him. He'd stopped crying, but he'd about given up. He was utterly lost. He'd no way of getting back- maybe he'd just ride the night out, he only had to wait to morning (though it couldn't have been later than ten).

It wasn't fair. He hated the place. Of all the children they could've sent, they had to send him up that lift shaft, whoever they were.

"Tommy!"

He froze. Was that-

"Thomas! Hey, where are you?"

"Newt?" He called. He recognised the funny accent. It was weird. He was getting out, and suddenly he felt like crying again. Whether it was from traumatisation or relief, he wasn't quite sure.

"Hey!" He heard footsteps, and then someone grabbed his arm. He shrieked in terror, before someone flicked a light in his face. He stared up at Minho, whose face seemed to be permanently set in a look of concern. "Bloody hell kiddo." The older glader whispered, setting the torch down and gripping the boy's two shoulders. Their faces were barely illuminated.

"What were you doing, huh?" Minho asked through gritted teeth. "Did you run away?"

Thomas shook his head. "No." He muttered. "I was just," he paused, what was he doing? "I was exploring." He decided. "I didn't mean to get lost." He pleaded, starting to cry again. "I didn't mean to."

"Tommy?" Newt and Alby appeared from a few metres away. Minho had evidently run. The eldest scowled, but seeing the twelve year old's tear stained face, turned his expression more neutral.

"What the hell were you doing?" He hissed, fury barely constrained from his voice. "This place is dangerous. You've been gone three hours, we convinced ourselves you'd been killed." He shook his head. "We were worried." He muttered, turning to walk away. "I'll pre-warn Jeff."

Newt bit his lip, before pulling Thomas into a half hug, yanking him from Minho's grasp. "What were you thinking kiddo? You just walked off. You can't just walk off." He bent so he could look Thomas in the eye. "You get that, right?"

Thomas nodded, feeling chastised. These young men were the only source of authority he had, and yet they themselves were only just adults. "Yeah." He said softly.

"He was_ exploring_." Minho's tone swam with frustration.

Newt just shook his head. "Later." He said, grabbing onto one of Thomas' arms. "Come on. It really isn't safe out here."

Thomas was tired. His legs were aching, and he knew they were covered with thorns. He was still crying, taking shaking, shuddering breaths.

He knew that Minho and Newt were worried. Between them they were practically carrying him back. Both had vice-like grips on his arms, as if they were afraid he'd collapse at any moment.

He was stumbling, nearly falling at every bump, and he was honestly going to start bawling if they didn't get out of there soon. His legs were burning, he knew they were bleeding. He felt his knees buckle, and then give way, leaving him crashing to the floor.

Suddenly he felt himself being scooped up off the ground. He looked up into Newt's worried face. The twenty year old looked down at him. "It'll be fine." He muttered. "We're nearly there." His voice was strained, angry even.

"Are you mad at me?" He whispered.

"No." Newt shook his head. "Not you, kiddo. It's just…" He trailed off. "This isn't any place for a kid. They shouldn't have sent you."

"Amen to that." Minho muttered from beside them as they neared the lights of the huts. "You're a magnet for trouble."

"Alby's mad at me."

"He's not." Newt paused. "He told you, he was worried. We all were, but Alby- you terrified him. He's always been the leader, and we've had deaths, but I don't think he'd ever imagined one for a kid."

"There's been deaths?" Thomas asked softly. "What killed them?"

Minho jumped in. "Newt, no-one's told him about the grievers. Not properly anyway- they're dangerous."

"Not now." Newt murmured. "Later, not now. Maybe tomorrow."

Thomas shut his mouth. He had to stop asking questions, he asked too many.

The glade came into view, and Minho yelled. "Hey! Med-jacks!"

A couple of guys ran over. "What happened to him?" The eldest asked.

"It's just his legs." Newt was saying. "They're bleeding, and he collapsed. But he's probably just tired." As he was saying this, he passed the young boy over to the guy, who said his name was Jeff. Thomas felt like a small child- it was humiliating.

They sat him down on a soft mattress, and brought over a sort of basin filled with something that had a weird sheen on it. Thomas followed the motions they made, taking a cloth and soaking it. They brought it close to his legs, the stinging making him sniffle a bit.

The younger one- he said his name was Alex sat next to him, squeezing his shoulders, and saying how it was all okay. Thomas decided then and there that he liked Alex. He was nice.

Jeff wrapped the last bandage around his shin and then stood up. "It should be better tomorrow." He said, and he pulled the twelve year old to his feet. Thomas would have fallen back over had Alex not been supporting him from behind. "You really look tired though." He said. "Exhaustion, probably. You're rooming with Chuck, right?" At Thomas' nod he sighed. "Maybe we should switch you out, with someone older. Just for tonight. Chuck doesn't always take things so…. seriously."

That was one way of looking at it.

"He could sleep in Ben's bed." Alex interjected, before he looked down. Glancing up again, he saw Jeff staring at him in concern. "It would be safer, at least for tonight. I'd be in the room. You know I room with Ben, and….yeah." He finished, though he looked reluctant. Thomas frowned slightly, hadn't Chuck said Ben was the guy who was stung?

"Maybe." Jeff said cautiously. "But Alex, you're not much older than Chuck."

"I'm a med-jack, remember? I'm sixteen, I'm not exactly irresponsible."

Jeff nodded. "Fine. Okay then. But if anything happens…."

"I know, Jeff."

"He's only twelve."

_"I know."_

* * *

><p><strong>I'll be going on holiday for a week so I won't be able to update during that time. Thankyou for taking the time to read my story though and thankyou to everyone who reviewed. :-)<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Alex?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you want me here?" Thomas asked.

Alex sat up. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you say I could come here? I know Ben is the one who's stung." He didn't mean to sound so abrupt.

In the dim light he could see Alex flinch slightly, but the boy answered anyway. "I just don't think it's fair."

"What's not fair."

"You, me- this place. You know I'm only sixteen."

Thomas shook his head. "I thought- I mean, I know Jeff said that, but earlier I assumed that it was just me and Chuck who were the only kids."

Alex laughed forlornly. "I wanted to get to know you, as cheesy as that sounds. The three of us are the only kids here. Everyone else is older than eighteen." He shrugged. "I just don't think it is fair. This place- the stuff was originally here, you know, everything, at least, that's what Alby and Gally say. They were the first two here, there was someone else too, but he died.. anyway, it's designed for adults. I just never saw why they had to toss a couple of kids in. I know Newt hates it, and Jeff."

"And Minho." Thomas interjected.

"Yeah." Alex nodded. "No-one else really thought about it till you came though. Me and Chuck, I'm sixteen, he's fifteen.. You're still a child, really."

Thomas frowned. "You are too."  
>Alex shook his head. "I think sixteen is in between." He said decidedly. "I don't feel like a kid, not really." He peered at Thomas. "I don't feel like an adult, either."<p>

Thomas nodded, and then yawned.

"We should get some sleep." Alex said. "They still need to decide what you should do- what job. I'm a med-jack- I like helping people."

"I like helping people too." Thomas said.

"Maybe." Alex said, "But you like exploring, don't you? Minho said that was the entire reason you got lost. I reckon you'd get bored doing this."

Thomas shook his head adamantly. "I reckon I wouldn't." He said.

Alex shrugged. "Maybe you wouldn't." He lay back down. "But you like adventure. I can tell."

"Goodnight." Thomas whispered.

"Night then." Alex muttered, turning on his side.

The blackness seemed to engulf him.

* * *

><p>"Rise and shine!"<p>

Thomas opened his eyes to see Alex's face peering down at him. He then shut them.

"He won't wake up."

"Hey, kiddo." The blanket was dragged from his shoulders. "Up you get."

"What? Newt?" Thomas blinked sleepily.

"Get up. We still need to find out what you're best at."

Thomas, suddenly alert, swung himself out of bed. "Where do I have to go?" He excited for this- he really was. It was interesting, new.

Newt grinned at him. "Get dressed first. I'll come back in about five minutes, so be quick. We're going to see how you do in the garden first, you know, growing food and stuff."

Thomas nodded, inwardly disappointed. "Okay."

Newt shook his head, before ducking out of the room.

Alex winced. "I pity you there, kid. Most boring day of my life."

"That you can remember." Thomas said softly, reminding himself suddenly what had just happened the day before.

The elder boy just smiled lightly, before ducking out of the room.

Thomas jugged off his pyjama top, and was about to pull on a sweatshirt, when something caught his eye.

He raised his arm so he could see it more clearly in the light. Shock filled his eyes, as he gazed at his limb, suddenly feeling, once again, the same dull throbbing echo through his body.

It was badly bruised, and Thomas might have put that down to yesterday's excursion- he had fallen a lot, after all- but the mottled skin wasn't blue. It was yellowing slightly- the colour of bruises a few days old. He'd been too tired to notice anything the night before, but he could see them now, clear as day.

He realised with a shiver, that he must have had them when he came.

It was sickening, scary.

He glanced at his other arm, and then his chest, feeling a little sick. The same result. Had he been attacked? What had happened to his before he was put in that lift shaft?

He legs. He pulled up the trousers to reveal his calves, pricked and scratched, and bruised. Though his legs had both old and new bruises mingling on them.

Thomas swallowed. Suddenly he felt very frightened. He supposed Jeff and Alex just hadn't noticed in the dark the old ones. What had his life been like before the glade? Suppose someone had hurt him?

"Thomas, you done?" Alex called from the other

"Nearly." He quickly changed, and when Alex came out from the shower room he was fully dressed too.

He could feel the older boy's gaze on him. He turned around, looking at him questioningly, counting to ten in his head to stop the shaking.

Alex just shook his head. "I was bawling right about now." He muttered. "You're incredibly brave, you know that?"

Thomas blinked. He hadn't expected that, but then- "Is there something wrong with me?"

"No." Alex grinned. "You're just brave. It's awesome."

Thomas nodded, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

"Tommy!"

The two boys jumped.

Newt knocked on the door. "You done?" He called.

Thomas tugged on the handle. He frowned as he realised he actually wasn't strong enough to open the door. Alex walked up behind him, and shoved, the extra force making it swing open with ease.

Alex looked up at Newt. "I reckon that rules out any heavy lifting."

Newt just nodded, "Jeff's looking for you. Want's you to hurry up." He managed a grin, though it was pretty feeble. "Ben's been thrashing about, and, well…"

The sixteen year old's face drained of colour, "Okay." He managed softly, before he was sprinting away in the direction of the main house.

Newt looked down at the boy in front of him. "Come on." He murmured. "I need to introduce you to Zart."

He started walking, and Thomas followed, asking, "Is Alex okay?" He was pretty concerned for the boy. Chuck and Alex were the only other kids at the Glade, and while they were both quite a bit older than him, he felt a certain kinship with them.

Newt glanced sideways at the boy, scrutinising him, as if he was wondering whether or not he should tell him something. "I worry about him." He spoke in low tones. "The kid takes things hard. Ben was his roommate, you know."

Thomas nodded, "Alex told me." He said. "Ben, is he- is he going to-" he couldn't finish his sentence. Somehow, though he didn't know the guy, it was heart-wrenching to think about his death. They were all trapped there- if anyone was killed, it would be felt.

Newt shook his head. "Not if we can help it. He got the serum, he should be fine." Something about the way he said that was off, as if maybe it wouldn't be all right.

"Newt?"

"Hmm?"

"What's a Griever? They did something to Ben, didn't they."

Newt stopped suddenly. "I keep forgetting." He muttered to himself. "You really need to know." He caught hold of the young boy's shoulder. "You've seen the walls close?" he asked, pointing to the now open arches.

Thomas nodded mutely.

"The walls don't just keep us in here, they keep other things out." Newt shook his head. "Grievers, is what they're called- they sting you, you go through the changing, and well… you saw Ben."

Thomas nodded. The man then tugged at the kid's sleeve. "Come on." He smiled, a little more light-hearted now. "We still need to find you something to do, around here."

* * *

><p><strong>I know this chapter isn't as good, but I just need to clear a few things up. Like the bruises on Thomas, and I promise it's relevant. he also needed to know what a griever was, and I hadn't managed to fit it in.<strong>

**Teresa still hasn't shown up, but she will:-D**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Zart was nice. He didn't talk a lot, but he helped Thomas when something was too hard, and he didn't seem to mind if the twelve year old did something wrong.

The thing that bothered the boy, was the boredom. He didn't think that he could garden all day, everyday. He preferred to be active.

Maybe Alex was right.

Thomas tugged at one of the weeds that had sprouted in the cabbage patch, scowling as it wouldn't give. He hated this, and he couldn't help but wish that he was older, capable of more things.

Newt had taken him to the slaughter house, but at the first sight of blood, he'd gone green. The older glader had dragged him out, thankfully without a word. They'd gone to the kitchen, but Thomas had nearly burnt himself on the flames, and Frypan had practically shoved him out, proclaiming that he didn't want any casualties.

Children weren't supposed to play with stoves, apparently.

And so he'd ended up here. Newt had decided that he'd have to be in the garden. 'At least you're not a slopper.' He'd muttered, when Thomas had expressed his concerns.

"Thomas!"

The twelve year old jumped, and he turned to see Chuck running towards him. "Thomas, where were you last night?"

Thomas looked up at the boy, he could see a faint expression of concern. "I got lost." he explained. "I had to sleep in the same room as Alex, you know, 'cause he's a med-jack."

"Oh." Chuck deflated slightly, though Thomas couldn't for the life of him figure out why. "Okay. Just checking. I need to get back to work." He turned around, and for a moment the younger saw an expression of pain on the older glader's face.

"Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

Thomas looked up at the kid. "Are you okay?"

An unreadable expression appeared on the teenager's face. "Yeah." He smiled easily. "Why wouldn't I be?" He started walking, then, towards the slaughter house, perhaps to clean something up- that was his job, after all.

Thomas turned back to the weed, feeling uneasy. He dug his fists into the soft, brown earth, trying to calm the wave of anxiety that washed over him.

A sudden noise screeched through the glade, making the young boy jump in alarm. Somebody grabbed his arm, then, pulling him swiftly to his feet. Zart glanced down at him, his face creased in worry.

"What's the noise?" He asked.

The older glader looked down at the child. "The lift." he said. Though his tone was calm, Thomas could hear the concealed shock. "And it never comes two days in a row."

They could hear others running towards the shaft, the others working in the garden were already gone, but Thomas didn't think he wanted to see the cold, dark metal box again. He shivered.

"You don't have to come and see." Zart said, lowly. "I couldn't stand being near that thing for three months.

Thomas shook his head. "I'll come."

They sprinted towards the sound of voices, all shouting at once. They ran to the back of the crowd, and Thomas squirmed his way through. Being little helped, he supposed.

"Tommy." Newt caught hold of his shoulder, as Alby yelled at everyone to be quiet. "Tommy, look at this."

Thomas peered hesitantly into the lift. He really did hate that thing, but curiosity won out. He blinked in surprise. A child, like him.

A girl.

Maybe child was pushing it though, she was perhaps fourteen, even fifteen, with long dark hair. He couldn't tell the colour of her eyes, they were closed. He realised with mounting horror that he couldn't see her breathing.

She looked like death.

Before anyone could stop him- not that they would anyway, Thomas jumped in, landing sprawled beside the girl. He put his hand above her mouth, and closed his eyes a moment in relief as he felt warm air hit his hand.

"She's alive." He spoke. The noise of the gladers had died down- they were all waiting for the outcome. A collective exhale echoed through the group, as if they'd all held their breath at the same time.

Someone jumped down next to him- it was Alby. "Greenie?" He asked, his voice unusually gentle. "You know her?"

Thomas frowned a moment, jumping to his feet. He did, or at least, it was faint. Somehow, he knew the girl. There was no point telling Alby, though- he couldn't identify her, tell them who she was, why she'd been brought there.

It was kinship, he decided, some sort of recognition, like they were family.

"No."

Alby raised his eyebrows, "You're really gonna tell me that? You must know her."

Thomas shook his head, "if I ever did, if I do, I don't remember." He looked up, past Alby's disbelieving face, and up at Newt, whose brow was furrowed.

"I really don't!" He exclaimed. The other gladers just looked puzzled. His breathing quickened. What was going on? Why were they all looking at him like that?

Alby bit his lip, looking irritated. "It doesn't make sense." he scowled. "You," He pointed at Thomas, "You came here just yesterday, a little kid. We've never had a kid show up here before- no-one younger than fifteen, anyway. She," He moved the accusing finger towards the girl on the floor. "Came up the lift one day after you, and she's the first girl." He ran his hand through his hair feverishly. "They have to be related."

Thomas, uncomfortable under the gaze of fifty odd pairs of eyes, glanced to the floor. He froze, suddenly- what was that?

He knelt again, uncurling her hand to reveal a small scrap of paper. Alby leant down and plucked it from her fist, at the same time fluidly pulling the twelve year old to his feet.

"She's the last one." He read out hollowly. The glade descended into anarchy.

"You know," Someone who Thomas didn't know the name of spoke up, "That means no more supplies."

Newt reached out for Thomas, who moved towards him. The older glader hoisted the boy to solid ground. The child let out a shaky breath, and Newt pulled him into a half-embrace, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

Alby beckoned Gally to help him, and together they lifted the teen out of the lift. Thomas saw Alex and Jeff, and a couple of others run towards them with a sort of stretcher, one made out of what looked like reeds.

Newt pulled Thomas away from the group, and the dark lift, and the twelve year old was grateful.

"You okay, kiddo?" The twenty year old asked, softly. His eyes were full of understanding. He did understand, he'd been the exact same. "The fear- it goes away after a bit."

Thomas nodded, not quite believing him. It was probably because he was young, he thought sourly. "Okay, but…. it's just a lift, I mean, I shouldn't be so scared, it's stupid, it's-"

Newt cut him off. "Everyone gets scared of the lift- everybody. You were trapped there, in the dark, with no memories, kid. I'd be worried if you weren't at least a little afraid." His tone was fierce. "You have to remember that."

Thomas just shook his head, ignoring the elder's eyes that were burning into his skull, he shouldn't be scared of a box, couldn't be….

"Tommy?"

Thomas looked up again.

"You know that girl-"

"I don't know her, I told Alby." Thomas scuffed his shoe on the floor. "I don't remember her."

"But you recognised her." Newt's voice was soft- and he wasn't asking. "You've got something to do with this, Tommy, something to do with what's happening- with everything. Kid, everything's changing."

Thomas' shoulders slumped. "Maybe," he breathed. "I don't know- I mean… there was something…" He trailed off. "I can't help." he mumbled. "I don't know anything."

Newt's gaze was constant, as if he was trying to read the young boy's ever-changing expression. "Come with me." He eventually said. "Kiddo- we need you to remember." He grasped the child's sleeve, tugging him back towards the huts. He sounded distant. "We need your memories."

* * *

><p>Hope you liked it :-)<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

**I really want to apologise for how long it took to get this chapter up. I'm back at school now, and it's harder to get time to write. I'm trying though, and I'm not going to abandon this story- I really like writing it. I hope you like this chapter, and thankyou to everyone who reviewed. You really made my day:-)**

Chuck pulled himself to his feet, bending to pick up his bucket. It stank.

Slopper. How aptly named.

He was a slopper for a reason, though. There wasn't much else he could do. Small, young, stupid.

He was bloody fifteen, and already hopeless. If he were outside the klunk hole known as the glade, he'd have probably been a cleaner. He could clean. The glade was filthy, he'd had to learn fast. Maybe it would be for a school, or something. Not that cleaners were bad or anything- it was just…..

Or a bathroom cleaner.

Newt and Minho and Alby- hell, even Gally- and all the gladers really, were clever. They were smart. Ask them a question, any question, they'd know.

Not that they'd know how they knew, of course- as the curse of the Glade, memories were wiped.

But still, they knew.

Chuck, he didn't know anything. Ask him nine squared, he'd hesitate, ask him the square root of nine, he wouldn't know. The others- probably even baby Tommy- they all knew.

He was stupid.

Maybe that was what scared him, he'd be as hopeless as he was here, even if they did get out… perhaps…

No. He wanted to get out of there as much as anybody.

But the seeds of doubt were cast, and he found himself wondering, would the outside be any better?

* * *

><p>Newt brought Thomas into the med-jack's hut. It was warmer, he realised, than any of the others, and he glanced around, gazing at the window frames, recognising the wideness of them.<p>

So, the walls were insulated. That really didn't make sense- whoever the creators were wanted them cosy?

"Here." Newt said hurriedly, pulling him to the bed where the girl lay. "Please try, kiddo please just think-"

"Teresa."

Newt blinked. "What?"

Thomas shook his head, confused. "I don't know, I mean it just came in my head, I mean-"

"Teresa, that's her name?" Newt seemed eager. "You sure."

"No." Thomas frowned. "I could be wrong."

Newt sighed. "We'll wait till she wakes up, if her name is Teresa, then we'll know that you know. We need you to remember. Try anything that feels like recognition- anything."

We need you to remember…. Newt had said something like that earlier, 'We need your memories.' Did they need them that much?

Newt had obviously talked it over with Alby, and the other keepers, though, he could tell. The older boy's brow was creased in frustration and… confusion. It surprised him.

But then, weren't they all confused?

Thomas glanced up at the taller, suddenly feeling very young, "Newt, what's going on? I don't understand." The sick feeling came back, and he swallowed to stop himself from crying.

Newt looked down at the child, and his expression rapidly cleared. "Everything's fine." He spoke in a tone so strong, that Thomas had no choice but to believe him. "You don't need to worry, kiddo."

He slung an arm around the boy's shoulders. "You should get back. I bet Zart's been wondering where you are."

Thomas nodded. "Yeah, okay." He murmured. Newt led him out of the room, chattering non-stop about something or other. The twelve year old was grateful, because maybe some things could be normal, ordinary (though anybody would be hard-pressed to find ordinary in the glade.)

And the anxiety disappeared, just for a while.

* * *

><p>Flashes of white light, noise.<p>

That was all.

A child, a little boy. Large trusting, azure eyes. Comfort.

Nothing more than a baby, really.

He cried- he never normally cried, but then, this wasn't normal. This wasn't a place for babies.

He reached out.

And then- "Don't touch my brother!" High pitched, child -like shriek.

His hand was burning.

And he screamed. Again.

And then- he ran.

* * *

><p>Zart wasn't normally one for violence- but when he saw a six foot tall eighteen year old practically throw themselves on a little kid, he just snapped.<p>

The child shrieked in alarm (and probably fear) and God, could that kid yell.

It was like ice trickling down his veins.

He leapt over, past caring about the plants he was trampling, and he caught hold of the young man, dragging him back sharply.

Someone else- Johnny, a guy who often helped out at the garden, took hold of the struggling glader's other arm. Zart felt he could swallow again, as he breathed out shakily.

He glanced down at the twelve year old, a little fearful. Was he okay?

No.

Thomas had tears rolling down his cheeks, as he struggled to breathe. A panic attack? The kid was gasping like a goldfish out of water.

That was when Zart, man of very few words, began hollering. "Newt! Bloody hell, Jeff, get over here!"

A sound of pounding footsteps. Alby, Newt, Jeff, Alex.

Alby was next him straight away, the both of them sending the crazed man plummeting to the floor.

"Ben!" The older yelled. "What the shucking hell are you doing?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Zart could see the other four crowding around Thomas, so much that he didn't actually have sight of the kid anymore.

"Let me go!" Ben protested wildly. "Let me go!"

"What do you want with him?" Alby asked threateningly. "He's just a little kid."

Ben stared up at them, and the young men couldn't help but be a little afraid of the half-manic grin on his face. He'd gone. That was it.

With a croaking voice he answered. "He has to die."

A swift uppercut to the jaw sorted it all out. They dragged him away. He wasn't going anywhere but the slammer.

* * *

><p>Thomas' eyes were closed. There were people there, he knew- he could hear them. But he couldn't see them, because his eyes were close, and he couldn't open his eyes because he was scared, and he was scared because-<p>

Someone was shaking his shoulders. "Please," They were saying. "Please, Tommy. Breathe."

"What's going to happen? Jeff?"

"Alex it's okay."

"Thomas you have to breathe."

"But what if he dies."

"He won't."

"Breathe! Dammit!"

He gasped, his eyelids flying back. Light flooded his vision, both blinding him and bringing back his sight. Both torture and bliss. "Newt," he rasped, trembling, sorting through the confused haze of his mind for any sort of recognition, "Newt, he grabbed me."

The older glader caught him up in a strong embrace. "He can't get you." A whisper. "I promise you're safe."

Thomas looked up, saltwater tracking down his cheeks. "He grabbed me." he sobbed. "He grabbed me."

Alex knelt down. "It's okay." He was trying to sound soothing, but his voice cracked. He was probably nearly as panicked a the child in front of him. He needed to know, though. "Thomas, are you hurt?"

"No." The little boy- for at that point, that's all he really was- shook his head. "I'm not. He just… scared me." He was still half curled on Newt's lap, who didn't look as if he were letting the child go any time soon.

"Still." The sixteen year old fought to keep his voice level. "I need to check you over, just in case." His mind was running at a million miles an hour, he was in shock to be honest, too.

Something flickered then, in the younger's eyes. Not the terror that was there previously, but.. apprehension.

Jeff pushed past him then, but not before squeezing his shoulder tightly. The older med-jack pulled the twelve year old up, lifting him off the ground. Thomas didn't protest, which worried Alex a little- not that he wasn't incredibly concerned anyway- because twelve year old boys don't like being carried.

Newt rose too, looking as pale as Alex felt. He stopped by the sixteen year old. "Don't think about it." He murmured. "Ben made his choice. Please don't think about it." There was a soft note of pleading in his tone, and Alex swallowed convulsively.

"Okay." He whispered. "Okay."

He stayed where he was, watching the retreating back of the elder.

Because any hope he had was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Here's the next chapter. Sorry if its not that good, or as good as the others. I never can tell. Anyway, things are really kicking off... for the moment I'm gonna stick quite closely to the plot that James Dashner wrote, but as time goes on Im gonna move further away, i think.**

**Anyway thanks to anybody who reviewed, I'm really grateful, and I hope you enjoy reading this.**

Chapter 7

Thomas stood in the med jack's hut, shivering. He wasn't cold, but he couldn't stop. He'd remembered the bruises- he'd never really forgotten them. Jeff wanted to see his back, because that was where he landed when Ben had landed on him.

The man hadn't been sane, he'd seen it in his eyes, he was half crazed, madness driven by the griever venom pumping through his veins.

Thomas had been _attacked._

Shaking his head, he fixed his eyes on a spot on the wall. It was no good dwelling on it. He'd have to push it out of his mind… he'd have to-

He could still feel them though. Hands grasping his neck. Tightening.

He could've _died._

Newt's face swam into his vision, and Thomas let out a choked sob. "Newt." His voice cracked with terror. "He grabbed me. I- I- he-" He shook suddenly.

Jeff's voice came, as if he was talking through a filter. "He's still in shock, probably." He was calm, clinical, and yet there was a slight tremor in his voice.

He was just a kid, really, like the rest of them. No-one had any proper training- not that they could remember, anyway.

"Arms up." Thomas heard, and a far away part of his mind obeyed. His shirt was tugged off, and he was immediately spun around, and-

"Oh my God."

"Alex move. What the hell is that?"

Thomas swallowed, as he pushed his mind to think rationally. "What is it?"

Then he was sat down, and turned so he could see their frozen faces.

Alex was the one who spoke. "Kiddo, your back- I mean the bruises, they're old you know, and-"

He peered at Thomas suddenly. "Shuck! -they're all over you." He lifted an arm to inspect it. "How long have you known?"

Newt stared at Thomas. "Did you know?" His tone was stern, but his eyes gentle, and the twelve year old lifted his own to meet them.

"Just this morning." He mumbled. Glancing quickly over, he could see Alex's slightly raised eyebrows. "I didn't- I mean, maybe before, but I was banged around in the box, and I thought it was just that, and, and I, I mean… it doesn't matter much really, so I just thought-"

"Thomas."

Thomas looked up at Alby, who was standing in the corner of the room, his face passive, but his eyes betraying their fear. "Kid, your back… have you seen that?"

The boy shook his head. "No." he whispered. "But the others, I mean… they're just bruises, right?"

The older glader just shook his head, coming over, and kneeling down right in front of him. "Thomas." His voice was soft, yet serious- so very solemn. "Thomas your back- it, well, it looks kinda like someone's whipped you."

Thomas closed his eyes. "Oh." He whispered. "But they- they put me here- and- it's- they-" His mind couldn't seem to form coherent sentences.

"We ain't gonna let them." Newt cut in, suddenly. "If we get out, Tommy, I swear to God, whoever did this is going to pay." His voice was venomous, anger rolling out of him in waves. "Jesus- and to a little kid as well."

Even Jeff, who seemed so collected normally, was restraining his anger. It made Thomas weak at the knees, and he shivered again.

Silently, Alex passed him back his shirt, and Jeff stated. "Your skin's not broken, so you should be okay."

Except that he wouldn't be.

He didn't remember getting the bruises- he'd probably be jumpier if he did. But the memories didn't matter. It was the _knowledge…._

"Tommy?"

The child glanced at Newt.

"You're going to okay, Tommy, you know that- yeah?" The twenty year old stared hopefully at him.

Thomas nodded. "Yeah." he muttered. He figured Newt needed more reassuring than he did. He nodded. "Yes."

* * *

><p>They'd waited till the runners got back, Newt said, because they needed all the keepers to make a decision- and that included Minho.<p>

The decision was made pretty quickly though, and when it was announced, hadn't understood. He knew it was bad, though. It was as if everyone in the glade had taken a simultaneous gasp of horror, terror, grief.

And that was it- grief.

Griever's killed people, Newt said, if they didn't get the serum in time. They killed people at night, when they were trapped in there, all alone.

Thomas' face was stony. It was his fault that this guy, this kid, was getting banished. _His fault._ If he'd never come here, it would never have happened. But how could they do this?

What could possess anyone to do this?

It was sickening.

The keepers were standing around Ben, by the doors. He was struggling, fighting with all his might, only to fail. A leather collar clung to his neck, held by each of those surrounding him. They were grasping lengths of tough leather, tied scruffily but securely to the choking mechanism. It was torture, it was inhumane….

It wasn't right.

"Stop!" He cried, and everyone turned to look at him. "Please, you're killing him you're-" He sucked in a sharp breath. "Please…."

Alby's eyes caught onto his, a mixture of pain, understanding. "Someone, just get him out of here." The older glader said. " Get him away."

Thomas was caught by his upper arms, and he struggled furiously. Angrily "No!" He yelled. "Can't you see it's wrong, you're giving him the death penalty!" They had to know, had to get it. They couldn't do this, could they? This was a human life.

Alby started talking then, over him, as he was being practically dragged from the crowd. "Ben, of the runners, we hereby sentence you to be banished, for attempted murder on-"

Thomas fled.

He sobbed, running and running and running, away from everything. It was his fault.

His fault, his fault, his fault.

Curled up, in the gardens, he started wailing.

No-one could hear him. They were all watching somebody being murdered.

It was _his fault._

* * *

><p>"Thomas?"<p>

Thomas glanced up, to see nothing but blackness. His face was illuminated by a torchlight.

Minho had a habit of being able to find people.

The boy curled up further, and the older glader knelt before him. "Thomas, I know it's horrible- I- I hate it too. Please- you gotta understand."

Thomas just shrugged. Was Minho just saying that?

The twenty-one year old laughed hollowly. "He was a runner. One of my best."  
>"Is that all you care about?" Thomas spat angrily. He ignored Minho's shocked face. "That he was good at <em>running<em>? You don't even know if he's dead."

There was the shred of hope.

The elder's expression cleared. "No. But no-one survives, Thomas." His voice was gentle- perhaps patronising, but Thomas knew it wasn't meant in that way.

"Then why put him in?" He just to know… if they had a reason- a good one, then maybe...

MInho shook his head. "Order." He ground out. "It's about order, Tommy." His tone was still calm, but anger was seeping through it. "Everything's about order."

Thomas nodded, as if to show Minho he understood.

"If everyone knew you could kill someone and just get locked up for a bit- most people here are teenagers, kid, late teens mind you, but still, just eighteen." Minho shook his head. "I'm one of the oldest, kid- I'm just twenty. They'd do it, y'know? It's like a family here, really. We're all each other has, but…. there are still grudges." He slammed his fist into the soft dirt.

"It doesn't make it right." The twelve year old mumbled. "It isn't right."

"No." Minho breathed. "It isn't, is it?" The young man looked at the child then, properly. He laid a hand atop the mass of dark curls. "It'll be okay." He managed a smile. "We'll protest next time, yeah?"

Thomas nodded shakily. "Yeah." And then- "Was it me?"

"I'm sorry?" Minho looked taken aback.

"I-I mean, if I wasn't here, he'd never have done that. I just-"

"No." Minho's eyes were wide. "No, no, no. It's not your fault, kiddo. It's never been your fault."

"But-"

"No." The twenty year old shook his head. "Look," He stood, brushing the dirt off his knees. "Come on. They've gotta know I've found you."

Thomas shook his head. "They did it, though." He whispered. "Ben's gonna die."

"I did too." Minho looked at him carefully. "You're mad at me?"

Thomas shook his head, standing. "You didn't want to." His eyes betrayed his fear. "Minho, I don't like this place." He started to cry again. "I don't _like_ it."

The older glader just wrapped an arm around him. "No one wanted to, Tommy. Nobody. But it had to be done, not matter how wrong it was. Let's go back, huh?" He tugged the child forward a bit. He wasn't normally the comforting sort- sarcastic was normally a word to describe him. But there was a kid, an innocent in this stupid place, and that was wrong. It'd never been right, but this was a whole new level of _horrible._

"Yeah." The little boy shuddered. "Okay."

But it wasn't okay- whoever the creators were, they must be able to see, they were cracking, crumbling.

All of them.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm really sory this took so long, and I'm also sorry it's so terribly bad, if it's any consolation, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night... If I didn't type it up today, i'd probably have ended up waiting another week.**

**Regardless, I hope you like it, and please review and tell me what you think. :-)**

Chapter 8

The girl woke to darkness. She lay there, frozen, her rapid heartbeat thumping in her ears, knocking around her skull.

"H-hello?" Timid, shy. "Please, help me…." The blackness seemed to smother her like a fog. "Please…"

There was no answer.

She was lying on something soft, though, a bed, perhaps? The lightless atmosphere prevented her from actually knowing, but there were blankets covering her body, and a pillow rested beneath her head.

She was still scared, though.

"Hello?" She ventured a little louder. "Is anybody here?" She pushed herself into a sitting position.

_Somebody_ must have put her there.

"Hey?"

A light switch flicked on- azure eyes met golden brown.

She flinched.

"Hey, hey. It's okay! You're safe." The young man in front of her brought out his hands, surrendering. "It's okay. I promise." He was sitting in another bed opposite. There was something different about it though-clinical, almost.

The girl's lip quivered. "Where- where am I?" She was so, so scared. Shivering, not from cold, but fright.

"The Glade." Though his tone was light, something in the man's eyes flickered.

"Where is th-that?" She inwardly scowled at her stutter- if this man was an enemy, he'd think her weak.

Was she weak? She could hardly remember.

Her question seemed to stump the man. "I don't know." He shrugged. "None of us do- really, but we won't hurt you."

"Us?" She whispered softly- fearfully.

The man looked tired then. "I can't tell you stuff now- nobody's awake. Listen, my name's Jeff, yeah? Do you think you can tell me yours?"

That one she knew. "Teresa."

Something reminiscent of recognition flashed across his face. "Teresa? Are you sure?"

Teresa frowned. "I reckon I'd know my own name."

"You know anything else?"

Well, that question was strange. "I can't remember anything," She answered carefully. "If that's what you mean."

Jeff sighed softly. "Go back to sleep." He muttered gently. "We can talk tomorrow."

At her anxious expression, his features fell into a more reassuring expression. "I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise."

She let the darkness overcome her.

* * *

><p>"Thomas. Wake up."<p>

Thomas blinked up at the boy hovering over him. "What?" He reached out to rub the sleep out of his eyes, before closing them again. He swallowed as the events of yesterday came crashing into his head.

Someone shook his shoulder. "The girl's awake! Newt needs you down there, now. Though you probably should get dressed first."

The twelve year old climbed out, looking up at the sixteen year old in surprise. "She woke up?" His eyes were wide, and the exhaustion slowly began to ebb away.

Alex smiled, looking a little anxious. "That's what I said." His expression turned serious, then. "Thomas, do you- I mean, do you remember her? Is that why they want you there?"

Thomas bit his lip, hesitantly. "I don't… remember her. Not really. It's just, I don't know- I think I've seen her before." He shrugged. "I don't understand much of anything."

Alex nodded. "You ran away last night." He spoke bluntly, and his tone was fearful. "You've done that twice now, kid. You're scaring us."

The boy looked up wildly. "There's nothing wrong with me!" His denial sent his heart pounding through his chest.

"Of course not." The older boy spoke softly. "Not you, Thomas- this place. It affects everyone, and you're just so young. It'd be natural for it to affect you differently." His voice was calm, a contrast to earlier, and Thomas' heart slowed a little.

"I was scared." He whispered. "That's why. I was just scared." The terror was still alight within him, still burning through his chest.

"You can't run away whenever you're scared, Thomas." Suddenly, Alex sounded old, though he was just in his mid-teens. "It puts you in more danger. This isn't any place for a kid."

"You're a kid too, Alex." Thomas shook his head, "I've got to get changed." He muttered, and the older boy just grinned amicably before ruffling his hair.

"Be quick squirt." The sixteen year old turned and jogged out of the room- probably to find Jeff.

The child pulled on his clothes quickly. Were they ever going to get out? Be free, normal?

Were they ever going to live, instead of just survive?

He was just a little kid compared to the rest of the gladers, though. He couldn't do anything about it. He was too young. Too young to be a runner- too young to help.

He took off at a run towards the Med-jack's hut, his thoughts bouncing around his head, jumbling together.

He couldn't make sense of this- of any of it. The whole place just didn't make sense. The maze- what was the purpose? Why were they there? Who created the place?

"Tommy!"

The boy tumbled into Newt, nearly crashing to the ground, if the older glader hadn't managed to wrap an arm around his shoulders. "Careful." Was his only warning.

Thomas just nodded, and the twenty year old pulled him away from the doorway a moment. "Are you okay?" He asked, lowly. "Yesterday- we shouldn't have let you see that."

Thomas leaned into the comforting hand pulling through his dark curls. "I'm fine." He whispered. "But- why did you do it?"

Newt looked down at the child. "We have too. People can't get away with that sort of stuff, you know. Ben nearly killed you." He shook his head. "Minho said- he said you were blaming yourself. You didn't do anything, yeah? It was the serum- it turned Ben crazy."

"But, what if it was?" Thomas asked. "My fault, I mean. Ben only wanted to kill me 'cause he got some of his past. What if I did something bad?" He was close to tears again- again- and somewhere in the back of his mind he told himself to stop being such a crybaby.

Newt gathered the boy into an embrace. "You're going to be okay." It seemed so meaningless now- he wasn't going to be okay. "I won't let them get you." How could he do anything?

"Come on." The older glader pushed Thomas forward so he was in front of him. "She's scared, so be gentle, though."

Thomas moved through the wooden door frame, his eyes searching for the dark head of hair so much like his own. She was standing, just staring at her toes, but her gaze flickered upwards to accommodate the newcomers. Her eyes met with Thomas' and she turned her head towards him.

He stared at eyes, his eyes wide. He'd seen her before obviously, in the lift, and when Newt had brought him in there- but she was awake now. Her eyes alight with poorly concealed mischief, under a thin layer of fear.

Large, bright azure eyes.

They blinked, a second, and stared right back at him. The colour of her irises reflecting in his own.

Azure against azure, blue against blue.

Her hair was a mop of dark brown curls- unbrushed and unwashed- yet so...

Her mouth…. her lips wide and full, her nose was upturned. It struck him as recognisable because he'd seen it before- backwards of course because that was how mirrors worked….

It was a cold realisation.

Suddenly, he found himself clinging to her. His arms up, around her neck. Her chin rested on the top of his head, and her frail frame shook.

"Tommy? What-" Newt began, but he was hushed by someone.

Thomas' tears soaked the girls shoulder. This time they weren't tears of fear, or anger, or grief. He was happy, for once, in this godforsaken place. The girl was holding him equally hard, rubbing his head with her palm. This was happiness, this was bliss…

"Jesus." Someone whispered, Alby. "She- he- they're-" For once, the leader couldn't formulate a sentence.

"Tommy?" Newt spoke again, this time more gently, and Thomas pulled away, until the two children were simply clutching hands. "Tommy, is she your-"

"Sister." Thomas finished, nodding, his blue eyes wide, innocence practically pouring out of them in waves. "She's my sister- my big sister."

"I'm Teresa." The girl, now Teresa said, softly, biting her lip- a habit it was clear both siblings shared. "Like Jeff said, like Tom said. I'm Teresa."

* * *

><p><strong>Did you like it? Or not? Please tell me:-)<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

He felt sick.

The nausea left him curled in a ball, hot tears squeezing from under his eyelids, sucking in harsh breaths. He knew his forehead was warm- burning even, but shivers wracked his body. He was so cold.

Cold, hot, cold, hot, cold.

It seemed to be a cycle.

The fifteen year old just sat there, though. He was sick, sure. He was ill, but it didn't really matter.

He just need to get things done, that was all. To get what he could done- not that he could do an awful lot, but he assumed it was the sentiment that counted.

He might as well be useful.

Chuck stifled a cough into his hand. He was ill, but he'd just have to get through it. It'd be over in a little bit, the sickness, the coughing, the fever. In a few days at least, he'd be fine. Just a few days.

He couldn't expect to bother anyone, they wouldn't want it- didn't need it, not really. He'd be fine- not that he could ever remember being sick before. He could get them sick, and they didn't deserve that, none of them.

That was when the tiny voice whispered, but you do.

He shivered again. It was getting colder, wasn't it? But then, the glade never really got cold or hot. Mildly warm, usually. Or cold, but never terrible.

Why was that?

'This means,' the fifteen year old thought glumly. 'I'm getting worse.'

It was freezing, and the chill crept through his bones like someone was injecting him with liquid ice. He sniffed back a few more tears, it wouldn't do to cry, they'd just laugh at him.

Everyone seemed to laugh at him. He wasn't surprised- but it hurt, and though he expected it, it was still painful.

"Hey?"

Chuck flinched, trembling, terrified. he didn't need this, not now. Not again.

"Whoa, hey kid." Someone had shoved the branches back, exposing the curled up form under the bush. Chuck squinted, but his vision was tilting and blurring, and he could barely make out anything.

Then there was cool hand on his forehead, and a sharp intake of breath. "Oh my God." Someone breathed, and there was a softness to their tone that one would normally associate with Newt-

Except Chuck could've sworn the voice was Gally's.

He pushed them away weakly. "No, I wan'..." But the words were slurred, and they fell on deaf ears. "Go 'ay.."

Then he was hauled to his feet, and he nearly fell, but whoever it was wrapped an arm under his own. "Come on." They muttered. "Come on kid, we just gotta get you there."  
>The fifteen year old was stumbling, falling, and blackness started to dot his vision.<p>

"No, no, no." The person yelped. "No, kid, don't pass out, please-"

But their efforts were in vain, and Chuck found himself face-planting the floor. Always graceful.

Why did it always happen to him?

* * *

><p>He woke up in a daze, feeling a cool liquid trickling into his ear. Someone had placed a cool cloth on his forehead- it felt nice, soothing against the dark heat.<p>

"Chuck!"

Thomas was sitting by him, his blue eyes wide. "Chuck, you collapsed. Are you okay? Are you ill?" The twelve year old shifted, as if he wanted jump around. "What happened?"

Chuck pushed himself up, wincing at the headache, but shaking himself quickly. He was fine, he just needed to get up.

He swung his legs over the side, and a small hand caught hold of his shoulder.

"You're supposed to stay in bed." Thomas, whispered imploringly. "Jeff said you were really sick. He said you have to rest, or it could get worse."

"Jeff's not a doctor." Really, Chuck was just saying what had to be said. "And I'm okay. It was probably just last night."

"But he said that today. Chuck you were asleep a day and a half." The kid was really getting on his nerves. "That means you're still sick."

"When did he say that?"

"Maybe about an hour ago? I don't know." The child shrugged helplessly. "But you are ill." His eyes had a glint of fiery determination in them, that made Chuck wonder. "Why don't you want to stay here?"

Chuck shrugged helplessly. "I just don't?" He asked. "I dunno, I mean, I guess I've just got to get back to work, you know- they can't function without me." He said the last part jokingly, pushing away the irritation. Thomas was just trying to help, and they were supposed to be friends. "I reckon I'm good enough to get up, kiddo."

Thomas just watched him, a glimmer of concern flashing across his face. "You're ill." He said quietly. "You don't need to work when you're ill."

Chuck swallowed, trying to put it into words. "I do." He told the child. "I'm not that sick anyway, though- but I have to help, yeah? I can't just be useless."

Thomas looked at him oddly, but shrugged. "Sure." He said. "But, you know- if you get sick like before, you gotta come back, right?"

"Right." Chuck nodded. "But I won't." He swung himself fully out of the bed. "I've got to get back to work." He pulled on his jumper from the floor, which someone had evidently removed. "I've gotta get back."

* * *

><p>Thomas swallowed- he didn't quite know why he was seeking the older glader out- maybe it was the ache in the center of his forehead, but something had been bugging him all day really. He was kind of anxious and jittery, and pretty jumpy. Alex had just put his hand on his shoulder, and the twelve year old had nearly shrieked in terror. He <em>was<em> feeling pretty miserable, though.

"Newt?"

"Yeah?"

Thomas bit his lip softly. "Newt, is Chuck okay?" There was something off- there had been for a while, and the twelve year old had to figure it out.

The young man glanced up, then, his light eyes suddenly unreadable. "Tommy, being here isn't easy, yeah?"

"Yeah." Thomas nodded. He knew that. "But Chuck acts so different." He could see it, every time he saw the older glader, there was something in his eyes- bleakness flatness, he wasn't sure, but it was foreign, and to be honest, kind of scary. "What if he- he-" He couldn't really voice it, it was too terrifying. The idea made him ill, sick, and he wondered if maybe he'd caught what Chuck had.

Newt shrugged slightly. "Chuck's always been like that, even when he came here." His tone was reserved. "Always." He sighed suddenly. "I don't know kiddo, I worry too- but in here, the glade I mean, we can't do anything, can't help… I don't know." He pulled the child towards him, ruffling his hair. "It'll be okay, yeah? We've just gotta watch him. Just tell me if he does anything strange, right? You can do that."

He could. "None of us are normal." Thomas's tone was bitter, and he could feel Newts careful gaze on him. Maybe it sounded wrong, coming from the mouth of twelve year old.

"No." The twenty year old's voice was a strange mix of sorrow and resignation, and… anger? It was restrained though, and when he spoke again he sounded closer to normal. "Kiddo, it's gonna be okay. We'll get out of here." The 'I promise' was unspoken, but it rung clear, and Thomas' eye watered a little. "I'm not going to let them keep us here." His tone was strong, determined.

The twelve year old did cry then, for what felt like the millionth time. Alex said he was brave, but he didn't think so- not really. Not like this. He cried all the time. That couldn't be anything but weak. He cried when he was sad, happy- none of the other gladers did that. None of them.

A strong arm wrapped around him, and Thomas felt safe. His body shook with sobs. They wracked his body- deep, wrenching, heartfelt cries. He felt so young at that moment, and he didn't understand just why, but he did. He clung to the twenty year old, tears soaking the elder's shoulder.

"You're going to be okay." Newt just kept whispering, and Thomas wondered if he'd been born with the 'comforting big brother' gene, because it fit him so perfectly. "You'll be okay."

Thomas nodded, still hiding his face from the world. "I'm being a baby." His words were muffled, but still audible, because the elder gently removed the boy, so he could see him properly.

"You're not." His tone was fierce. "Tommy, you're twelve. You're a child, not even a teenager. Nobody thinks you're a baby."

"But I cry all the time." Thomas whispered. "I do, and that's babyish."

Newt seemed to think a moment, "It isn't." He finally said. "You're littler than the rest of us Tommy, and this is an incredibly scary situation- for adults, let alone kids. You're not crying more than the rest of us first did- that's amazing in itself."

Thomas just nodded. Newt was clever- anyone could tell from the moment they met him, and far more mature than he had any right to be. His words were practically gold dust, and they always made sense.

"Right." Newt grinned. "And I reckon Frypan's saved us something to eat, so we might as well go have it."

"Okay."

"And we can get you something for that fever."

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you liked it- I've sort of gone off on a tangent and I hope you don't mind. It's a bit of an insight into who Chuck is though, and I've always thought the books don't really have him in them enough. Review please, and tell me what you think :-)<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Oh my god I'm so sorry! i know i haven't updated in ages and you probably hate me :-( it s a really short chapter as well. I hope you can forgive me...**

**Anyway, things are picking up pace a little. I still have a few plot twists planned, but in general i'll probably stick close...ish to the books. After they get to the scorch trials though... anything could happen :-)**

Chapter 10

"Newt?" The young blue eyed girl blinked up at him, her gaze soft. "Newt- it's okay."

The twenty year old stared at her, his eyes sharp- because it wasn't okay. How could it possibly be okay? "Teresa-"

"No!" She was fierce, angry even. "No, you can't just give up, Newt. It doesn't work like that. It never has, the gladers- they need you!"

"Alby's gone." The elder of the two whispered, "And they need him."

They glared at each other, tense, frozen, neither backing down. Out of the corner of his eye, Newt could see some of the gladers watching, staring. This was likely interesting to see, really.

Because Thomas _had to go in there_. The stupid little boy had to be brave, he tried to help- and nobody stopped him. No-one had grabbed him, nobody followed him. They'd just stood there, while a twelve year old leapt to his death.

It was pathetic, really.

And it wasn't like Teresa hadn't panicked either. Her high pitched scream had followed his own shouts of, "Don't you dare!", and "Tommy!"

The kid had cried, for God's sake, broken down in sobs, and Newt had been the one to lift her up and hug her- because her brother had been swallowed by the labyrinth of black, and was probably dead-

No. He couldn't think that.

But she didn't have the right to say that, to say any of that to him, because while she'd lost a brother, _he'd lost three._

If none came back, he'd be alone.

Right then, right there, he hated her. Her eyes were full of such empathy, and understanding, and God, he wanted to shake her.

He couldn't though, and the urge subsided, curled away, until it was simply a distant memory.

"Newt, you're second in command, remember? This is your job." Her expression was kind- sincerely so, and Newt knew she was genuine.

He looked up, then, and addressed the rest of the gladers, "It carries on as normal. Get to work."

Those were the only words they seemed to need.

* * *

><p>It was dark.<p>

Thomas stood, frozen, as Minho gaped at him. He hadn't meant to, but the older glader was in trouble, and he just ran….

Minho leapt up just then, his expression unreadable. "What was that?" He hissed, his tone beyond measurable shades of anger.

"I-" Thomas just shook his head. "Don't, Minho- please." He whispered. He was already scared, he couldn't have Minho mad at him, he just couldn't…..

"I can't help you both." Minho whispered. "I can't, you understand that? Even then, kid, we might-"

Thomas shook his head, his eyes taking in the barely illuminated passages. "We won't." He sounded years older. "We can't."

"Except- we can." Minho closed his eyes. "Nobody's immortal you know- we've gotta get going."

"I'm not leaving Alby."

The anger was palpable, real, terrifying. "You selfish little brat!" And then suddenly the older glader was shaking him. "I'm trying to save you, don't you get it? _I'm trying to get you out alive._" He sobbed. "Oh God, Oh God. We're really going to die!" He stared into the child's eyes, trying desperately to find something that wasn't there. His grip tightened. "Tommy." He whispered. "We're gonna die."

Their lives were over.

"Let me go!" Thomas practically shrieked. "Ow." He whimpered. "Let me go." Trembling, he shook his head. "We won't die" He spoke softly, with a confidence he didn't deserve. "We won't die, Minho." He was so scared, but his voice was quiet, as if dealing with a spooked animal. "Let me go."

Minho dropped the boy as if he were burned. "I'm- I-" But he didn't finish.

The grating noise tore through their chests, the waves of sound rippling through the earth, and Thomas was thrown backwards, screaming as the back of his head made contact with the wall.

Then, he was alone.

He stared at the stone slab separating them in confusion, bewilderment. He reached gingerly around his hair, flinching when his hand probed something wet, warm…

Blood.

He had to stand, though, to get up, to walk. If he didn't, he'd be dead. If he couldn't get away, he'd be killed.

"I'm only twelve." He whispered, as he struggled to raise his head. "I'll die."

And he stared down the black passageway, the neverending darkness, he couldn't bring himself to care, not really. This existence was pointless- why should they live in a world of just them?

It seemed wrong.

A moan cut off his self-pitying thoughts, and he screamed in terror, his eyes darting to find which creature made the sound. A sudden shock seemed to ripple through him as he stared wide eyes at the bleeding man on the floor. Alby was with him. Hurt, helpless.

Oh God… He echoed Minho's earlier sobs. He couldn't do this, he couldn't think… there was no way. Nobody had ever survived, Newt said. Nobody.

Except….

There had to be something- because there was a reason they were kept there. A massive maze, with supposedly no way out. That would be pointless. That would be downright stupid.

Thick creepers climbed the stone walls, curling into the crevices. They seemed to taunt him- they were free to do things, go places. The gladers were stuck there.

But they depended on the walls as much as the vines, for protection as opposed to suport….

Support.

A whirring clicking noise sounded, closer, closer.

Thomas sucked in a sharp breath, coldness freezing his insides. He had to_ do something-_ he couldn't just leave Alby alone, unprotected.

He tugged on the vines, relief flooding his system when they held. Alby was heavier than he was, so he couldn't be sure, but-

It was better than nothing.

He dragged the older glader under the arms. His trembling fingers looped the greening around the man, harnessing him, securing him. Then he pulled. He shouldn't have been able to, he didn't have the strength- he was running on pure adrenaline, pure fear, but it worked.

Inch by inch, painstakingly slowly, and the clicks and whirrs were coming, louder, louder, louder, until his eardrums were fit to burst. He pulled Alby higher, high enough so that maybe, _maybe_ he'd be safe, that the grievers might not look for him- might not find him.

The twelve year old wanted to scream, and cry. He wanted to beg whatever God that was out there for his life, he wanted to be safe.

Because it was that moment, as he tied the vines into what he hoped was a strong knot, that he saw it.

And in that moment, he knew he was dead.

* * *

><p><strong>an I hope you liked it!:-)**


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